Confessions of an Ex Debutante
by Sugarfairy
Summary: When Elizabeth Ransbury lands herself, quite by accident, in the perfect job, she couldn't imagine asking for anything more. But nothing ever turns out quite the way one would think, especially not with the Autobots around... and Decepticons have never been ones to leave things peaceful. Post TF 4. OPxOC
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: WARNING. I am a flaky writer. A painful confession, but it's true nonetheless. I always tell myself 'I will complete this story before I start posting any chapters' and the results of this promise has left me with an entire file of half written literature on my laptop. As such, I should not be posting this, as it is unlikely that it will ever make it past the second chapter… But I am. Perhaps if it is liked and encouraged I will find the motivation to continue… Or I will ignore everyone's pleas for more and feel moderately guilty for teasing them with what could have been a good story. I apologize in advance, because I know exactly how it feels to start reading and hate the author for never updating… forgive me. You have all been warned.**

**PS- if you haven't seen the fourth movie this contains spoilers. Read at your own risk. **

Prologue

_ Before I begin I must make one thing perfectly clear. _

_ Let the record show that I, Elizabeth Azalea Ransbury, being of sound mind and… satisfied body, would never seduce an alien. Now if the alien seduced me… well that is an entirely different story._

_ It all began, you see, with my Grandmother. To portray this woman accurately I feel that all I must do is capitalize the 'G'. For she wasn't a gran, or gramma, or nana; you know, all those cute words that describe a tiny, rotund woman who bakes cookies and tells stories. No, my Grandmother was more of a 'straight-backed-hair-in-a-bun-pearls-at-her-throat' type of lady. She had a grand old house, quite as straight up and down as herself, and swathed in lace and doilies that did nothing to reconcile the severity of her personality. She did not bake cookies or tell stories, although her maid, Priscilla, was quite adept at both. _

_ The one thing my Grandmother did do, was balls. Or rather, she hosted them. I do not jest. In the heart of twenty-first century England, my Grandmother spent her days planning and throwing events and galas worthy of any nineteenth century debutante. This was her passion and her mission- turning girls into Ladies. Again, I capitalize because to her there was a striking difference between 'Lady' and 'woman.' Ladies were demure, pretty slips of things meant to attract smart and wealthy Men. Women were… well we didn't talk about them. _

_ Four sisters before me, and each turned out of the house as lovely, respectable Ladies. And me, well, I was as lovely and charming as any of them, and with my Grandmother's guidance, I had the whole world (if in this instance 'world' were to mean 'every eligible man of good report in England') before me._

_ Now, I hope I have appropriately set the stage for a fairytale worthy of any young girl's imagination…._

_ Because I am about to bash it in, quite heartily I might add, with a stick. _

_ For this is not the tale of Elizabeth Azalea Ransbury, who became a Lady, like her Grandmother and sisters before her. This is the story of me, (and call me what you will- how many nicknames can be made from Elizabeth?) and how I became a Woman. _

It was quite by accident that I got the job. Some would call it a 'career'- quite an accomplishment in the eyes of many of my American associates, and an insult in the eyes of my Grandmother- but I would quickly come to refer to the position privately as _babysitting. _It did have quite the eye-catching name on paper, however; **Public Relations Representative for Special Persons. **

I am entirely honest when I say it was an accident, I mean yes, I did apply for the job, however I am quite certain I was never supposed to know about it in the first place. I had been in America for only four years, attending University and trying desperately to carve a life for myself among the cans of ravioli and shredded wallpaper that made up the most interesting things in my one-bedroom residence, and now that I had graduated I was quite determined to make something of myself. If only to spite my Grandmother.

The crisp, professional document describing the position I referred to must have fallen out of someone's bag, and to this day I am glad I cannot say whose, for I'm afraid it would cost them their own job. For me though, it was like finding a solid, eight-and-a-half by eleven chunk of gold right there on the sidewalk. Was this not precisely what I had gone to school for? Even before that, I have a firm belief that nothing prepares one for 'public relations' quite like a debutante ball. I read the sheet thoroughly, hardly believing my luck. And yes, it did say **'internal applicants only**,**'** whatever company it may have been for, but I was young and confident and I made the call anyway.

Three days later I had the job. And if there were murmurs of '_not enough applicants,' _and '_she'll have to do. I just hope she knows what she's in for,' _well, that just made me all the more determined to prove myself. My interviewer had been a beautiful, if intimidating Asian woman named Su, who I liked to think I must have impressed in some small way, even if there _weren't _many applicants. My boss was a charismatic man named Joshua who didn't seem to care about my complete lack of experience in, well, anything besides choosing fancy dresses for parties. I had never had a job before, not even during my grueling university years. My Grandmother had insisted on paying my way, though I put up much resistance. I think it was her hope that if she would let me have my rebellious experience, I would come crawling back to her at some point. In retaliation I used as little of her money as possible and lived in poverty just to prove I could. However, that is beside the point. I had a job now- a real one- and I was determined to do well.

I arrived on a Monday, in the middle of the summer, eager to begin. Despite the early hour the heat had already reached a point that could be described as sweltering and between that and my nervousness, I feared for the integrity of my newly bought pant suit. At least the dry, still air did little to aggravate my… abundant curls (when I say 'abundant', think certain Scottish Disney princesses and female sidekicks to young wizards, but more blonde. Hair that should be left in stories, not put on a real human being. I look like a walking choking hazard, but I digress-), and I felt about as ready as any twenty-four year old English-American could be expected to feel.

Joshua and Su met me at the entrance to a massive warehouse complex that was to be the location of my position. I had been surprised to learn that I would be working not at the ultra-modern building in the middle of the city, but mainly at a facility in the middle of nowhere, some three hours from my home. I had been assured that accommodations would be provided, however, and the pay was too good to turn down so soon after graduation. My tiny apartment meant little to me anyway, and could see my friends on my weekends off.

I greeted my employers politely, and followed them into the closest, and largest, building in the complex. We were soon joined by a man who introduced himself as Cade Yeager, a name that sounded familiar to me, but I couldn't immediately place it. In any case, he was a friendly, modest man who indicated that we would be working closely together in my new position. I was admittedly grateful to know I would not expected to do everything myself. In fact, I still had no idea what most of my job entailed. Both Joshua and Su had been very tight-lipped on the details, and I had near signed my life away in paperwork by that point. It was frustrating. Although I had spent almost a month in training, I hardly felt prepared to represent anyone with the minimal information I had received thus far, and so it was with much enthusiasm that I agreed when Cade offered to, finally, introduce me to our clients.

"Now don't be frightened. They're softies, all of them. Just as excited to meet you as you are them, I swear." Cade explained gently.

My eyebrows may have hit my hairline then. Frightened? Was that particular reaction expected? But I nodded, doing my best to keep my expression decidedly pleasant, rather than perplexed. Cade seemed to call my bluff though, and he chuckled, shrugging as if to say 'at least I tried.' Joshua and Su shared a slightly bemused look that made me bristle. They had hired me hadn't they? I was up for the challenge, not matter how 'frightening' it may have been.

"No questions, then? Let's get going." Cade and Joshua started up a friendly conversation as we walked down a wide, plain corridor. I kept one ear on their banter, listening to snippets about a girl named Tessa, and her college escapades, but my mind was elsewhere. I felt as if I knew what must be coming, in some way, but again I could not place the thought. I felt like I had every second piece of a puzzle, and could do nothing to actually put them together as a whole picture.

While I was internally waxing poetic on puzzles, we had arrived at a large metal door, which presumably led to another warehouse, or perhaps just another part of the same one we were in- I was hopelessly lost, though we had not gone far. There was little in the way of landmarks, for the building was mostly dull metals and straight hallways. Perhaps, I thought idly, I'd best bring some red yarn to follow for next time… or bread crumbs.

I was interrupted by Cade clearing his throat. "Well," He said, "This is it. The moment you've been waiting for!"

I tried very hard not to roll my eyes at that. If this moment didn't happen soon I would be long dead. The annoyance was quickly outweighing the anticipation. Cade seemed to sense my impatience and threw open the door with little fanfare.

Before me stood four, well, '**special persons'**, just as the flyer had said. Four great, metal men as diverse as any group of four humans could be expected to look, or perhaps even more different. It's easy to notice such differences when they are so very _large. _

"Ah." I said, simply, hoping to sound nonchalant. I forced a shaky smile, "Er…Pleased to meet you."

Everyone laughed at that. The humans, tensely, and the Autobots, genuinely amused. I grinned in spite of myself. The puzzle that I had been lamenting earlier was now complete, and although I was surprised, everything made sense now. The secrecy, the location, Cade Yeager, I finally understood.

"Yer not afraid of us are you?" The round, metal-bearded giant nearest me chuckled.

And he was perfectly right, for although taken off guard, I was not at all frightened. Even as a fairly new American resident, it was impossible not to have heard of the famous, or infamous as the case may have been, Transformers. In the last decade or so they had become American legends, and worldwide history. I could easily recall now, the news stories, from barely six months earlier, of the near devastation of Hong Kong. And everything that had happened in the years before that, although I had still been in England, I had pieced together through friend reports and youtube videos.

I was giddy. I had been fascinated with these beings since my teenage years. Even during the years when they had been hunted and massacred I had felt only empathy for the aliens who had done nothing but try to protect us since their arrival. And now, now I would be working directly with them!

And so it was. I threw myself into my work with abandon. It was grueling, and unlike anything I had ever expected from my life, but so very rewarding. Cade and I soon became an unbeatable team helping our friends, Bumblebee, Drift, Crosshairs, and Hound, to strengthen and improve their somewhat rocky, (that being Hound's description- mine would be more along the lines of _volatile_ at best) relationship with humans, and to take their place in a world so very different from their own.

Our little group soon became like family to me. With the Autobots, Cade and his family, Joshua, and Su, it took only one year before I felt very much like I had carved a niche for myself in this newfound calling, and I intended to spend many more continuing my work. It was as much as I ever could have hoped for… or so I thought.

At this point I realize that it must sound very much like I have reached the end of this story, but I assure you, I have only begun…

For what, one may ask, became of Galvatron?

And of course, I had yet to meet who this story is really about (besides myself, of course), for Optimus Prime had not yet returned to earth.


	2. Friendships and Discoveries

Chapter One: In Which Friendships are Formed and Discoveries Made

_My name, you see, has always been a funny thing. My sisters were all flowers; Rose, Dahlia, and then the twins, Petunia and Primrose. I came last, and was given the name Elizabeth. It's as if I was condemned to be different from the start. _

_ My middle name, at least, was for a flowering shrub, which was close enough to their own namesakes for my sisters to decide I was Azalea, or Azzy from the time I was very small. _

_ To Grandmother I was Elizabeth Azalea, at least until Prim and Petunia reached nineteen and I became _the_ Miss Ransbury. I believe she took great joy out of dragging out all eight syllables when she could have easily done any number of things to shorten it into one. _

_To my friends, I was always something different; Eliza, Liza, Liz, Lizzy, Beth, Bethy, well, you get the idea. I didn't mind at all, for I had decided at a young age that the name Elizabeth really was too much of a mouthful for people to go around saying all the time, especially in a fast paced world like our own. Who had breath to waste on extra syllables?_

_ Each of the Autobots quickly found their favorite way to condense it. Hound called me Lizzy, Drift preferred Beth, Crosshairs decided I was Liz, and to Bee I was Az. _

_Only Optimus Prime called me Elizabeth._

Today was a very important day. My heels clicked lightly over the dark tiled floor as I paced impatiently.

"You must remain calm, Beth." Drift reminded me in his gentle Japanese accent.

I glanced at him bemusedly. Early in my time with the Autobots I had once informed him that having an Asian demeanor, but the alt mode of a Bugatti simply didn't work, seeing as the vehicle was Italian. I smirked now, in a self-deprecating way. I had been so eager to share my vast store of human knowledge with the poor, naïve aliens. I knew better now.

Drift had laughed at the time and explained that he enjoyed both the sound of the accent, and the look of the car. It made little difference to him if it wasn't quite right to a human.

That was the first time I really thought about the Transformers being their own race, with their own cultures and values. Somewhere, subconsciously, I had decided that if Drift was an Italian car, he should have an Italian accent. But what I hadn't truly comprehended was that Drift _wasn't _a car. Nor was he actually Japanese. He was a Cybertronian, with his own language, and his own form. The Autobots had adopted personality traits and accents familiar to us only out of necessity for understanding between the two species.

"Has anyone ever offered to learn Cybertronian?" I blurted out. I was suddenly feeling rather ashamed of my own race for not making more of an effort to understand the foreign culture.

By then Crosshairs had joined us, and he chuckled at my question.

"Not once, Liz. However, even if someone wanted to, you do not have the vocal processors required to form the sounds of our language. It is much easier for us to download yours."

"Still," I muttered, "Someone could at least ask."

"You honor us, Beth," Drift replied, "but we are the strangers here. We will adjust accordingly."

I nodded, biting back my retort. I had only known them a short time, but I had grown fond of the Autobots already, and protective as well. I often found myself biting my tongue, for I had always had a quick temper. The whole situation didn't seem fair to me, but they all seemed content, or at least reconciled, with their current way of living so I vowed to hold my peace, at least for the time being.

Bringing myself back to the present, I gave Drift a teasing smile.

"Of course, I must remain calm. Admit it, Blue, underneath all that meditation junk you're just as anxious as I am."

The mech chose not to be swayed by my baiting. "Go find Hound," he said with a huff, "and leave me in peace."

He shuttered his optics, and I share with little regret that I wasn't above sticking my tongue out childishly before click-clacking noisily down the hall to where I knew Hound would be.

I could hardly believe it had been almost a year since I had started this job. The Autobots were like family to me now, and I had bonded closely with each of them. In the relatively peaceful period since their battle in Hong Kong, and without their leader to command them, they had all finally had an opportunity for some down time. Between the flurries of meetings, press interviews, and public appearances that I guided them through, there were stretches of time where I had the opportunity to just get to _know _them.

Hound, who seemed so unrefined that he would make my Grandmother's hair curl, had a deep love of literature. He had made a token effort of hiding it when I first arrived, but when I began to drop suggestions of classics for him to read, he was soon coming to me for long chats about Shakespeare and Chaucer.

Bee was the most cheerful and outgoing of his companions, but at night he suffered from nightmares- or stasis projections, that would have him up and wandering the complex. It wasn't exactly hard to miss his heavy footsteps, and we soon had a routine of going for late night drives to help him clear his head. It also helped, I found, for him to listen to earth music. He didn't have any particular genre that he liked best, but he was always grateful when I brought a new CD for him to scan.

Crosshairs often lamented and complained about the absence of their Prime. He would provoke and irritate the other 'bots by challenging them for the role of leadership. After a while though, it became apparent that he didn't really mean what he said, he was simply _bored. _He spent a lot of time working with Cade now, learning about earth engineering and assisting him with his random projects.

Drift, who tried to act so calm and collected, was as quick with his temper as I was. Meditation did little for him in reality, but the specially built training arena, where he could hack and slash to his spark's content, did wonders for his psyche. He could go many days without a round of sparring, but if he was headed to the 'gym' I knew better than to ever follow. The excitement of watching paled in comparison to the fear of getting beheaded.

One of the most interesting activities, for everyone involved in our little group, was the Holoform Conditioning Program.

It had started one day when I had idly remarked that some of the public appearances required by the Transformers would be much easier if they were human. I had slapped my hand over my mouth when I said it, instantly ashamed that I would imply they should be anything but what they were. Joshua, who had been present at the time, had thought otherwise.

"You know," he said slowly, "That's not a bad idea."

"What? What do you mean? It's not possible in any case." I retorted.

"Actually," Crosshairs cut in, "it is possible, in a way. Since coming to Earth we have learned to use Holoforms- a human projection- to help conceal our identity. Your vehicles hardly drive themselves, so we learned to project a 'person' into the driver's seat. It is a fairly new technology, though. We had no use for such a thing before we came to this planet."

Both Cade and Joshua lit up at the phrase 'new technology.' I excused myself then, eager to escape before the engineering discussion began.

Over the next few weeks plans were laid out and experiments put into action. Within the next month each Autobot had a completely detailed human projection. Each Holoform was flawless in appearance, but it was soon apparent that _looking _human was only half the battle.

The Autobots controlled the Holoforms virtually, which must have been harder than they thought, for the first time I saw their trial forms I was scared half out of my mind thinking I was under attack by zombies. I had shrieked and wailed for _anyone _to save me, at which the zombies all started laughing heartily in a way very similar to my beloved Autobots.

I had been disgruntled, but calmed considerably once they explained that they _were_ my Autobots.

We had all had to work together then, because although the Transformers had nailed human appearances, they _moved _like robots. Movements that looked graceful and smooth in their metal forms were made to look considerably more awkward and jerky at human size. Long years of my Grandmother's scathing remarks about posture and walking properly became suddenly relevant as I shared my knowledge with my nonhuman friends. They were quick learners, although Hound, admittedly, would never be _graceful._

The other problem we encountered was that the Holoforms weren't solid. There was nothing substantial to them. They could have still appeared in public, but it would be disconcerting for any humans who might brush _through _them. Cade and Joshua worked at the issue constantly, but had yet to find any results for their lack of solidity.

"If Ratchet were here," Hound had stated, "he'd have this little glitch sorted in a nano."

_Ratchet._

I was giddy now. Ratchet was the reason today was so important.

After the battle in Hong Kong, Joshua had rethought the decision to bestow the world with Cybertronian technology. Instead, he had broken down all of his remaining prototype projects, few as they were after the destruction of his original lab, into their original Transformium matter.

It was Cade who had The Idea. While assisting with sorting through the wreckage of KSI, he had stumbled across the still fairly intact head of the recently destroyed mech. It didn't take long before he was barging in on Joshua's weekly progress meeting with yours truly, head in tow.

"We could bring him back!" He had exclaimed. "We really could- well maybe. Think about it. You made Galvatron out of Transformium, intending him to be modelled after Optimus, but because of Megatron's presence he was reincarnated into the prototype. We have just enough Transformium now that if we were to build a prototype of _Ratchet,_ and there was anything, anything at all left in _here_," at this he had hoisted the head onto Joshua's desk, scattering paper and pens everywhere, "maybe it would become Ratchet!"

Far-fetched, I know. But the Transformium wasn't being used for anything else, and Joshua was nothing if not a dreamer. There wasn't a better man to go to with the request that he drop a couple million dollars on a dented, metal head and a _'maybe.'_

And now, months later, here we were. If all went according to plan, today would be the day that they brought Ratchet back.

_Maybe._


	3. Reunions and Impressions

Chapter 2: In Which Reunions Occur and Impressions are Made

_What did I think of the Prime when I met him? _

_ Well, I admired him, to be sure. How could one not? A great, metal man his size, leading his motley band of troops with that air of regal authority he's so known for. It was impossible to look at Optimus Prime and not want to kneel before him, pledging respect, loyalty, and perhaps a firstborn child or two to his Greatness. _

_ But all of this made little difference in the light of one, small, but pertinent fact._

_ He was rude._

_ You'll find I am in earnest. The great Autobot commander, whose deeds of selflessness and compassion were practically bedtime stories, was a complete tosser in my humble opinion. _

_ It wasn't that way for everyone. Joshua seemed worthy of at least the Prime's respect, and Cade seemed to garner outright affection. _

_ But me? _

_ I could remove body hair with the laser-like penetration of his glares. I could keep my food refrigerated with the coldness of his tone. I could spike drinks with the stiffness of his posture whenever he was around me._

_ Perhaps I am exaggerating… First impressions, as you know, go a long way toward determining the nature of a relationship, and ours was, well, less than outstanding. _

The sun was beginning to set as we all, _finally_, gathered in the lab. Everything was quiet, save for the background drone of machinery. We were each holding our breath…well, metaphorically in the case of the Autobots.

"Okay," Cade broke the silence, pulling up data on a giant screen, "show time."

I tilted my head, peering at the form of 'Ratchet 2.0.' With only a few grainy photographs and shaky video clips of him in battle, it had been difficult to rebuild him identical to… himself. But with the opinions of the Autobots, and most of his original head available, he was as close as could be expected. Same face, same color scheme, just subtle differences in structure. Hopefully it would do.

We all waited anxiously behind a protective sheet of glass as Cade and Joshua keyed in the last few codes needed to online the mech before us. Whether he would be Ratchet, or a simple robot was entirely up to fate at this point. Electrical lines were bonded from the remains of Ratchet's head to the new form, encouraging a connection between any vestigial brain activity and the empty body.

I had expected zapping noises, and showers of sparks, maybe even a power outage, but the event was disappointingly anticlimactic. The metal body before us was briefly illuminated, then slowly, slowly the optics began to glow a bright, piercing blue. This meant little, as the body itself would have done that with or without Ratchet's consciousness inhabiting it.

"Ratchet?" Crosshairs asked, cautiously.

For a moment, the mech continued to stare ahead blankly, and I let out a shaky sigh. It hadn't worked.

But suddenly he gave a shattering cough, and spoke.

"_Where_, in Primus' name, is _Optimus_?"

I think we all wanted to cheer knowing that the months of work had resulted in success, but the serious, almost frantic tone in Ratchet's voice gave us pause. Cade looked to the Autobots to explain. We had all discussed beforehand that us humans would leave the speaking to the Cybertronians. Although Ratchet was familiar with humans, we were strangers to him.

"The Prime left earth,Ratch. He left us to continue defending the humans. We don't know when, or if, he will return." Hound informed him.

"_What? _That slagging- ! He must return!" Ratchet seemed so upset that I couldn't help but interject. Ah well. I never had been good with being seen and not heard…

"Why are you so concerned about him being gone?" I piped up, "You've missed a lot. The fight is over. Everyone's safe now."

Upon hearing my voice, Ratchet seemed to suddenly realize he was in an unfamiliar place.

"Where am I? No, wait- that can wait, I must tell you what I know first." He pressed a metal finger against his temple, suddenly looking very tired. "When my parts were brought to the lab where Galvatron was created, I was, in a manner of speaking, _connected, _to Megatron's consciousness. I still am."

A collective gasp could be heard throughout the room.

"It is only a thread, mind you, but it is there." Ratchet continued, "I don't know what war you think you've won, but Galvatron is very much alive, and I've never known Megatron to give up his quest for Autobot annihilation, or world domination. _Why _exactly did Prime _leave?_"

"His creators may have been involved in the recent near extinction of earth's inhabitants. He is tracking them down, in order to bring them to justice." Drift said reverentially.

At this, Ratchet let out a hoarse, barking laugh.

"What? What's so funny?" Cade asked. It seemed none of us humans were doing well at staying out of the conversation.

"For all that he is a good and wise leader, Prime has something of a... Hero complex." Ratchet explained. He sounded very much like a proud but exasperated father. "Chasing down his creators! Pah! Sometimes he needs to be dragged by his smokestacks back from his own greatness."

He sighed now. "I cannot believe that he would go when earth is under threat. The humans are in danger, still."

Crosshairs cut in. "He wasn't exactly feeling the same tenderness toward humans as he once did, when he left."

"He'll be tender for a week when I'm through with him." Ratchet growled.

"But how will you get to him?" Hound asked, "We haven't had any contact with him since he left."

"He'll be on his way now." Ratchet said confidently, "My on-lining will pull at his spark in the same way as the birth of a sparkling. The feeling will only be heightened now that he holds the Matrix. He may not know what it means, but he'll come. His sense of duty will always outweigh his own desires. Mark my word- he'll come."

And with those _fun_ little tidbits of information, we went to work. The next few weeks were a flurry of activity as we all tried to prepare for both the return of Optimus Prime, and the possible uprising of Galvatron.

Easier said than done.

It was more of a waiting game than anything, and my job changed very little. Ratchet was soon brought up to speed on everything he had missed. I quickly developed a fondness for the well-meaning, grumpy mech, and although he was never exactly friendly, he seemed to like me in his own gruff way.

As Hound had predicted, the 'Great Solidifying Mystery' that Cade and Joshua had been working on for months with the Holoforms, was solved by Ratchet within about five minutes. He explained the procedure to Cade, who absorbed every detail with relish, and though I was present at the time, I mostly heard a lot of decimal numbers and the word 'calibration,' which meant nothing to my poor, engineering challenged mind.

It did, however, present a new facet of our 'Holoform Conditioning Program.' Having their mind and vision essentially split between two bodies made hand-eye coordination difficult for the Autobots. Getting used to the human bodies was challenging for them, but they threw themselves into overcoming their difficulties out of sheer boredom if nothing else. It was all well and fine for Ratchet to prophecy about Galvatron and Doomsday, but it was hard to imagine such a grim fate when the world seemed so very _peaceful._ We had received no evidence of even one Decepticon on the move, let alone their reincarnated leader.

Life around our little base was so much the same that despite Ratchet's forewarning, I was taken completely by surprise when Bumblebee rapped on my office door one afternoon to tell me of Optimus Prime's imminent arrival.

I had been dutifully typing one of many refusals to one of many parents desperately seeking the presence of an Autobot at their child's birthday party, and was grateful for the interrupting knock. I was worried, however, when I opened my door to Bee kneeling outside, looking frantic.

"Is everything alright, Bee?" I asked, concerned.

"Prime has entered- orbit. Will be here- one hour." It was rare for the scout to use his own voice; a sign of the subject's importance to him.

"Oh. _Oh. _Uh okay, I'll er…" Well wasn't I just the most articulate girl around. I felt the same anxious energy rising within me as the day of Ratchet's return. "I'll just come with you, then, shall I?" I finished weakly.

I was apparently the last to hear the news, as everyone was waiting for us when Bee and I exited the base. Joshua and Su were there, looking excited, and I was surprised to see that Cade had brought his daughter, Tessa, along for the reunion.

"Are you sure I should be around?" I asked Cade, for the millionth time. It was an argument we had been having, first over Ratchet's on-lining, and now with the Prime's return. I was a stranger to both Autobots, and didn't want to make them uncomfortable with my foreign presence.

Cade rolled his eyes, but it was Hound who answered. "Any friend of ours is a friend of Prime's, Lizzy. You're practically family. You should be here."

I smiled at the warmth in his tone, and nodded, gratefully. As much as I wanted to be respectful I was also _dying _to meet the famous Autobot commander.

We waited there, five humans, five mechs, on the tarmac in the blazing heat of a desert afternoon. The anticipation was a tangible thing.

"So… he's coming here, then?" I asked Ratchet, "Does he know where we are?"

"Yes, he was in communication with Crosshairs soon after his re-entry into this planet's atmosphere." Ratchet replied, "All things considered, he should be arriving right about- ah. There he is, the show off."

I followed his pointing finger to a bright shape coming swiftly toward us. I shielded my eyes against the sun, but could make out little of the distant figure. I did know one thing though- it was _magnificent. _It was like watching a piece of the sun itself blazing across the sky.

"_Amazing," _I breathed.

Ratchet groaned, rolling his optics in response to my awe. "He's upgraded _again_. He'll run out of space for all that tech eventually." He huffed, fondly.

The impact made by the mech upon landing was enough to make my knees buckle, and I steadied myself against Drift, who was standing on my right.

"Do not be nervous, Beth." He said softly, "The Prime is a friend to all humans."

I nodded, and clasped my hands, which were decidedly _not _shaking, in front of me. I experienced a moment of confusion, trying to distinguish the newly arrived Autobot from the dust his landing had unearthed. As the debris settled, I let another awed breath escape me.

He was, well, he was _Optimus Prime_. I had never really understood the American term 'fangirling,' but I was quite certain I was experiencing it then. Even I, who had no engineering or mechanical experience to speak of, could appreciate the fantastic technology that made up a Transformer. The elaborate detail of the Autobots never ceased to amaze me, but the leader standing before me was a specimen such as I had never seen before. I wondered if it wasn't due at least in part to how very _large_ he was, or perhaps the way he stood, at once both intimidating and inspiring. I could see why he was the Autobots chosen commander.

In those first moments, he had optics only for his once lost comrade, Ratchet. The two greeted each other in the rapid, electric tones of Cybertronian, and although I could not understand the words, it was impossible to miss the sense of both anguish and joy at the reunion of two friends who had fought so long side by side. My eyes misted briefly in compassion for them both. Ratchet's voice changed all at once from joyous to scolding, and the Prime's to humility. I wondered if the medic was lecturing him about his suicide mission or his new flight tech.

Hound's deep laughter interrupted my musings, and I watched happily as all of the Autobots greeted their Prime in the same metallic language. The moment seemed so private that I felt like an intruder on their reunion. I contemplated whether the other humans present, and myself, should return indoors and leave the mechs to catch up, but already Prime was turning toward us.

He acknowledged Joshua and Su, perhaps not warmly, but it was difficult to tell with his mask still in place. To Cade and Tessa he gave a slightly more enthusiastic greeting. And then-

His optics were on me. He seemed to hesitate, regarding me silently for long enough that I began to feel uncomfortable.

"Optimus Prime, this is Elizabeth Ransbury. She works with us as a public relations rep. She's done wonders for the autobot-human relationship. You'll find things are much less _tense,_ thanks to her." Joshua supplied, and I flushed with the praise.

"It's lovely to finally meet you," I trilled timidly, wishing that my voice wasn't quite so _high _right then, "er, sir." I added, just in case.

He blinked once, optics shuttering with an audible chink. I desperately wished to know what he was thinking, but it was impossible to tell with most of his face blocked. Finally he inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement.

"Miss Ransbury." He said.

I winced. Miss Ransbury was my Grandmother's name for my sister's and I when we were in our respective 'spotlight' years.

"Please, anything but that." I muttered, without thinking. I hardly expected the Prime to hear, but he did, head jerking in an almost startled way.

"Elizabeth, then."

And with that established he turned back to his mechs, speaking rapidly in their own tongue.

I felt rather ill. I had been beside myself to meet the great Autobot commander, but now that I had I felt quite displeased. He didn't at all seem pleased to meet me, and I was certain that I'd somehow made a poor impression.

I excused myself with the lie of waiting paperwork and fairly ran to my office. Once there, I chided myself, already disgusted by my own childish behavior. Optimus Prime had been perfectly polite, as much to me as any of the others present. What was I expecting? A pat on the back and a 'job well done'? I snorted. He had better things to do than worry about me and frankly, I had better things to do than worry about his opinion of me.

It wasn't until late that night, when tucked into bed with nothing but my own thoughts to distract me that I realized how my mouthful of a name sounded quite... tolerable in his impossibly deep voice.


End file.
